Firstly thanks to all those who sent in stories for the Urban Legend Series on TEIO.
Will start with an amusing story sent in by Piyush.
A man who worked in a large factory was stopped on his way out every night as he wheeled out a wheelbarrow full of straw.
Each night the suspicious security guard would sift through the straw to make sure the employee wasn’t stealing, each night he found nothing but straw.
Years later the man was retiring and as he left the guard said that he knew he was stealing something all these years, what was it.
The retiree answered “wheelbarrows”.
Next is a link sent in by IndianArchie, on a famous legend whether Nostradamus, the French astrologer had predicted the 9/11 Attacks in US.
The first foretold “a great thunder” in “the City of God” :
“In the City of God there will be a great thunder,
Two brothers torn apart by Chaos, while the fortress endures, the great leader will succumb”,
The third big war will begin when the big city is burning”
- Nostradamus 1654
Complete story can be read, here.
Comments
1 comment | Add your comment »
shadows
Jun 13th, 2006 at 7:03 am | #
Hey hey, thats not an urban legend, thats a joke, maybe on us, cos I was expecting an urban legend.
Even this qualifies as an urban legend then..
A Sardarji comes up to the Pakistan border on his bike. He’s got two large
bags over his shoulders. The guard Iqbal stops him and says, What’s in the
bags?’ ‘Sand,’ answered the Sardarji. Iqbal says, ‘We’ll just see about
that. Get off the bike. Iqbal’s guards take the bags and rips them apart;
empty them out and find nothing in them but sand. He detains the Sardarji
overnight and has the sand analyzed, only to discover that there is nothing
but pure sand in the bags. Iqbal releases the Sardarji, puts the sand into
new bags, heaves them on to the Sardarji ‘s shoulders, and lets him cross
the border. A week later, the same thing happens. Iqbal asks, ‘What have you
got? ‘Sand,’ says the Sardarji. Iqbal does his thorough examination and
discovers that the bags contain nothing but sand. He gives the sand back to
the Sardarji, and crosses the border on his bike. This sequence of events is
repeated every day for three years. Finally, the Sardarji, doesn’t show up
and one day and the guard meets him in a ‘dhaba’ in Islamabad. ‘Hey, Buddy,’
says Iqbal, ‘I know you are smuggling something. It’s driving me crazy. It’s
all I think about…I can’t sleep. Just between you and me, what are you
smuggling?’ The Sardarji, sips his Lassi and says, ‘bikes’. . . . . . . . .